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I am in tourists’ pictures,

Since I walk around my tourist town,

Pictures I will never see,

Taken by tourists with me in them, accidentally.

They come to see the seven gables; the Seven Gables is famous in a book.

One thing tourists know how to do is look.

Because elephants live in books

And elephants are few,

And elephants need to eat leaves,

They may come to your town, too.

My town is by the water, which watered the tourists’ dreams:

Old World cliffs. New World streams.

I see them peering at maps, and guessing which way they should go,

Following the sea’s edge to the lighthouse;

The moss stinks, and the tide is low.

They spy a heron in the shallow harbor,

Bending its legs in the green water,

Or is that me? Tomorrow a picture will know.




  1. noochinator said,

    September 19, 2017 at 7:46 pm

    Byline of 19-Sep-2017 — John Simon on “Who Killed Poetry?”

  2. September 19, 2017 at 8:51 pm

    See my comment to John Simon.

    • Desdi said,

      September 20, 2017 at 11:46 am

      Nooch and Gary – thanks for linking to the excellent post by J. Simon. I like what was said there esp. regarding John Ashbery.
      I don’t know why, but I have a hard time posting at blogger sites. There seems to be some glitch between WordPress and Blogger that I can’t get around. It asks me to check ID boxes but then never allows me to post anything (?)

      • noochinator said,

        September 20, 2017 at 4:52 pm

        I always post at Simon’s blog using my Gmail account. It’s a good group of commenters there, lotsa gab about films….

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